Settlin' In
by Mary Kleinsmith
Summary: A little post-ep for Stage Stop. I was compelled to write it, so I hope y'all enjoy it!


Settlin' In

Post-ep for Stage Stop

After a week at the Sherman ranch, Slim'd given me my first pay, and it was burnin' a hole in my pocket, that was for sure. I knew there was things I needed gettin', starting with enough bullets to fill not just my gun but my gun belt as well. My gunbelt….

I'd carried this old brown gunbelt for years, it was one of the few things that I'd been able to save from the fire, the barn where it was stored havin' taken a lot less damage than the house where…. Never mind, that was something for another day. The fact remained that the belt was gettin' mighty worn.

That's what I was doin' here in the leather goods store in Laramie, my second stop after gettin' a box of shells. It was the first chance I'd had to really look around the town. It was a decent place, a store, a couple-a saloons, a hotel… everythin' a town needed. Even a place to get your hair cut. Who'd'a thunk up that?

But the store with all the saddles and such was what was fascinatin' me at that moment. I didn't need a new saddle, mine was just fine and Traveller seemed to like it. But they sure had some purty ones. So I moseyed on over to the rack that held all the different gunbelts. There were so many, different sizes, different colors, some rough-tanned and some smooth and sleek. I wasn't sure how I was gonna pick. And then, right in the corner, it caught my eye.

Shiny and smooth, black as night with plenty of room for spare shells, and just about the right length without bein' way too long. I think it was the first time I ever fell in love with a piece of leather. It would seem odd, wearing black instead of brown for a change.

But maybe it was time for a change. I was startin' out a new life, so wasn't it only right? I already knew that the Sherman ranch was where I wanted t'be, provided none of the trouble from my past showed up to get me fired or forcin' me to light out for the protection of Andy, Jonesy, and Slim. Maybe a new look was in order.

I asked the shopkeeper how much for the belt, and he gave me a number that nearly made me choke. It wasn't cheap, but I'd seen worse on some of those fancy, rich dudes. But it still called to me, so I opened up my wallet and shelled out the money, and before long that beautiful lady was in my hands. Not sure when I started thinkin' of my gunbelt as a lady, but it seems like always.

After payin' for the belt and the shells, I had a bit of money left, but wished it was more. A stop at the saloon for the better part of an hour let me triple what I had, so I left my unhappy poker partners with a smile and a tip of my hat to head over to the dry-goods store.

The matronly lady who welcomed me seemed nice enough. It felt good for a change to not have a person assumin' I was a bad seed. I know I've been in my share of scrapes, but I like to think I'm not as bad as all that.

"What can I help you with, young man?" she asked with a warm smile.

I had to think about it for a minute. What did I want? "I was thinkin' about some new clothes. Maybe a shirt or two?"

"Oh, yes. Were you looking for something for every day, or for special occasions?" It only then came t'me that, at some point, I was gonna have to get something nice for dances and church and such if I was to stay here. But that was gonna have to wait for another time.

"For every day," I told her, takin' off my hat when I realized that I hadn't when I came in. My momma would have had my hide if she'd seen me do that, and I hoped for a second that she wasn't lookin' down on me right now. I'd hate to know I was disappointin' her.

The lady showed me a few shirts she had in my size, and there was a blue one I really liked. "Ya don't happen t'have two of these, do ya?" I asked her, and she searched her stock and produced a second, identical to the first. "I'll take 'em both, thank you, ma'am."

I turned to go over by where I had to pay for 'em, and it happened for a second time that day. My eyes was caught by a black vest. I'd never owned a vest b'fore – it just wasn't important to have one when you're livin' so every dime counted – but I'd always wanted one. Admired the ones Dixie and some of the others I'd ridden with had.

"Ma'am?" I asked, and she turned back to me from where she'd been walkin' back to the counter too. "How much is that?" I nodded to the vest, and she took it down and told me the price. Checking my wallet, I was happy to see I had just enough. "Could I have that, too?"

"Yes, sir," she said, taking the vest off the hook and folding it neatly on top of my shirts. I went to the counter to wait while she added up my order. There were some hat bands on the rack on the counter that I admired while I waited. She gave me the total, and I counted the bills outta my wallet while she wrapped each item and then put it into a bag. Then, with a smile, she removed the band that I liked best from the rack and put it in the bag, too.

"Come back soon, young man," she said as she handed me the bag.

When I got home – can you b'lieve I'm already callin' it home? – Slim was out back choppin' wood, Andy was workin' with his animals, and Jonesy was milkin' the cow. I went into the room we all shared and unpacked what I bought. Bullets went into the gunbelt and into my iron, which was down to my last two. The gun slid into the belt like they were made for each other, and I put on the belt, practicin' drawing over and over to get a feel for the girl. She was perfect. Then I changed my shirt into one of the new, light blue ones, and put the vest over top. Lastly, the band went on my old hat – they looked just right together, too.

I went outside, expectin' a reaction from Slim and Andy on my new clothes, but, when I said my howdies, they answered back without a word about my new rig. I confess, I was mighty proud of it, and a bit disappointed that nobody was sayin' nothing.

But it was later that night, after Andy'd gone to bed, that Slim got up from his seat in front of the fire and walked to the side of the fireplace. It was the hiding place he'd showed me late one night, a place to store my gunfightin' iron where Andy wouldn't know or think to look for it. He'd have to learn to shoot some day, but Slim didn't want him playin' with guns until that time. He took the top off, and removed my gun, wrapped in a cloth.

"This is a pretty big space, y'know," he said, tryin' to hide a grin. Slim was so easy to read, it hadn't took me even a couple days to learn to tell what he was thinkin'. "Plenty of spare to store, say, a backup holster. Just in case."

I got up, crept into the bunkroom, and got my old, brown standby. I hadn't wanted t'just throw it out after all the good years she gave me, and she had some fight in her yet. Wrapping her in another cloth, Slim stood by, holding the rock that covered the hole, while I pushed her down to the bottom and then put the iron on top of her.

The tools of my youth were put away, the clothes of my youth discarded. For the first time, I could say I felt like a grown man, settled and ready to build a life. And it felt good. Darn good.

The End.


End file.
